


Out Tonight

by tropicalgothic



Category: Naruto
Genre: It's 2020 but it's from a very old convo with Kitty, Kitty 2020, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:43:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27176065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tropicalgothic/pseuds/tropicalgothic
Summary: Sasori had plans for the evening. The plan for the evening, on the other hand, decided to turn the tables on Sasori.
Relationships: Rasa/Sasori (Naruto)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	Out Tonight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shipcat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shipcat/gifts).



> Happy Happy Birthday <3 Kitty here is an amazing writer (and all round person) and has gotten me into a number of rare pairs-- RasaSaso being one of them. This scene came from a conversation when we first started talking-- with a good amount of things altered, but the general tension is still the same. Hoping I did this bit justice.

“Senator.”

Rasa blushed pink. And then blinked. And finally, recognized the voice.

“Sasori. I didn’t expect to see you in...” Rasa’s eyes landed on Sasori’s white blouse, three buttons undone; slim jeans that went all the way up to his waist, wrapped in a thick blue-green belt; suspenders that served minimal purpose; shoes that stood too steadily on its stiletto heels. “...DC.”

“I didn’t expect to see you here either.” In two strides, Sasori claimed the bar stool beside Rasa. Rasa and his terribly plain outfit— of course, Sasori didn’t miss that. An unimaginative combination of a plain navy blue suit, with a plain navy blue tie. He raised an eyebrow, “Date ditched you because of the get up?”

“Oh,” Rasa looked down and touched the fabric of his suit, “I just came from the Hill— thought I’d stop by for a drink.”

“So you’re not with anyone?”

“Unfortunately.”

“And you still haven’t offered me a drink?”

He blinked.

Rasa spared three seconds for confusion. But called the bar tender for a drink, nevertheless. Except that three seconds were’t quite enough for confusion— and Rasa wanted to ask Sasori what he was doing here. In DC, he meant. Rasa knew why Sasori was in a bar, catching the gaze of men and women alike. Karura did mention his vanity in a conversation, once.

“You didn’t—“

“I’m here for a conference,” the explanation languidly rolled off Sasori’s tongue, just as the bartender returned with their drinks. He smiled at Rasa, brought the pink swirly straw to his lips, but did not elaborate.

“A medical conference?”

“Crit-care pulmonology,” Sasori idly played with his straw, “Optimizing ventilator strategies.”

“That’s—“

“A disappointment. No one knew what they were talking about.” Sasori’s eyes flickered his way for half a second, before turning away. “Still, I suppose the trip here has some perks.”

“And what would those be?”

This time, Sasori shot Rasa a look he did not expect--- eyes narrowed, lips pressed together. The apology (and confusion, there’s so much confusion this evening) were already hanging on Rasa’s lips. But before he could say anything, Sasori rolled his eyes, took his straw out of the glass, and finished the drink in 3 gulps.

“Buy me another, Rasa.”

\---  
It took three rounds of drinks, one for every hour spent in conversation, for Rasa to feel the swirl of alcohol getting to his head.

Because it definitely was getting into his head, and he was starting to imagine things. Like Sasori’s annoyance melting into— _was it annoyance or frustration?_ Rasa has not known Sasori long enough to read the expressions in his face, but he would find his gaze lingering a touch too long. Less to understand and more to---

“I admire the detail in your work—“ Rasa leaned closer to Sasori. _Too close._ He adjusted himself— a respectable distance, this time. “When are you going to open it up to another viewing?”

Sasori rolled his eyes, swirling the last bit of his drink around and around before he answered. Rasa could have sworn he saw a playful smirk somewhere there. “That only as a favor to Karura and this—“ he waved his hand and turned around. “Charity auction you two were doing. I don’t normally let people in to see the studio.”

Rasa has not known Sasori long enough— but in the tequila haze, he might have forgotten how to be hesitant. “You ought to make an exception for me, then.”

Sasori said nothing, only leaning closer towards Rasa, an eyebrow quirked up.

“I would like something to go with the _Maiden by a Stream_.” It was then that Rasa realized— he was no longer at a respectable distance away. He pulled back. Adjusted himself once more.

Sasori lingered in his position for a second or two— and then folded into himself the way Rasa had. “It’s getting boring here,” he mumbled to himself. Sasori slid off the chair to his now wobbly stiletto heels and sli—— 

Reflex caught Sasori by the arm, but it was Rasa who met his eyes and helped him back up. “Are you alright?”

Sasori smoothed out his blouse, and looked around the bar— made sure no one saw the wrinkle in his exit. “There’s a night club two blocks away. It’s still early.”

Rasa looked at his watch. It was not early. But he didn’t trust Sasori or his shoes to walk anywhere without catching a sprain.

“It’s not quite my scene.”

“Definitely not dressed like that.” Sasori slipped off Rasa’s tie with practiced ease, and undid a few buttons. And— he ran his hand over Rasa’s hair to complete the look. “Now, it can be your scene. I doubt anyone will recognize you there anyway.”

Sasori’s hand lingered on his cheek, and Rasa forgot to breathe.

“Are you just going to stare all night?”

Rasa blinked. His jacket was no longer on him. Sasori’s hand was no longer on his cheek.

In fact, Sasori was already at the door and Rasa chased after him.

\---  
“Do you even——“

“I know where we’re going!” Sasori hissed, “It’s two blocks away—“

“We’ve been walking for five.”

“I can count.” Sasori stopped and leaned against a nearby wall, flipping his phone open.

Rasa walked a few steps behind Sasori. He could see the wobble in Sasori’s shoes. He was not blind to the moments Sasori would pause, and pretend he didn’t need to sit down. _There’s a perfectly clean bench—_

“I think we went the wrong dire—“

“We didn’t,” Sasori was swiping through his phone. And paused. Closed his eyes. And contemplated what lie he’d feed Rasa, because he was not admitting to—

“My place is probably closer than the club.”

Sasori turned to Rasa, and raised an eyebrow at how different the man looked without that plain navy blue jacket and plain navy blue tie. In two strides, Rasa was beside Sasori.

“Not a party place,” he explained, no longer standing at a respectable distance. “We’re actually not allowed to make noise after 10 because I have a roommate and—“

“That doesn’t sound fun at all.” Sasori rolled his eyes, and turned his attention back to his phone. Pretending to look at something important. Hoping that Rasa’s shadow would obscure the pink on his cheeks. The dense brick wasn’t supposed to flip things this way.

“I’m sure we could make it fun.”

 _Not supposed to flip this way._ “Only for old people,” Sasori fumbled for a appropriately sharp insult. Because he came out tonight with a mission and it was going to go _as planned_. His way. No surprises. “Has the hangover chills started early? Alcohol fever making your good sense evaporate?” He reached up to touch Rasa’s forehead—

But a hand stops him.

“Do you know what though, Sasori?”

He didn’t know, actually, when Rasa stepped close enough that his breath tickled Sasori’s cheek. But he does not look at Rasa--- not yet. His eyes were fixed on the shadow of his hand in Rasa’s, caught in midair. Perhaps, afraid that if he looked away, his gaze would be ensnared by a certain someone’s.

Instead, Sasori tilted his head closer. “No, I don’t,” the words, a drawn out hiss under his breath “What should I know, Rasa?”

“You look like you want something, Sasori.”

“Says the pot to the kettle,” that came out much harsher than he intended, and Sasori snapped his head towards Rasa— not realizing that Rasa was a breath away and Sasori’s back was pressed against the wall.

Sasori’s breath caught in his throat. A second frozen between the wall and Rasa stretched into two, and then three, and just as Sasori thought he couldn’t—

“Wouldn’t it be wiser to tell me what you’d like?” Rasa leaned even closer, his nose brushing Sasori’s cheek. But Sasori said nothing— his words and usual good sense have not returned from when Rasa took the breath out of him. So it was Rasa who sighed, “Well,” and pulled back, “people don’t get what they don’t ask for.”

He gently dropped Sasori’s hand, and walked away, saying something about getting finding the proper direction at the next intersection. And Sasori was left there—- back against the wall, and the blood drumming in his ears.

And he fool was still talking about the damn night club. 

“I don’t _ask_ for anything, _Rasa_ ,” Sasori hissed out. In two strides, he was at Rasa’s side. 

“I take what I want.” His hand gripped Rasa’s shirt. 

“When I want it.” He brought himself up on his tip toes, his lips almost—— 

“How I want it.”


End file.
